


A Bad Day

by Avengerz



Category: Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Outsider, Tiếng Việt | Vietnamese, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avengerz/pseuds/Avengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt on <a href="http://imagineironpanther.tumblr.com">ImagineIronPanther</a>: "Maybe T'Challa struggling with bouts of depression and Tony helping him?" </p><p>  <i>“He is unharmed,” Okoye soothes, careful to speak in English. Anthony, despite his genius, finds it more difficult to understand isiXhosa when he is tired or stressed. Now, it seems, he is both. “No one has hurt him, nor has he brought harm unto himself.”</i> </p><p>  <i>Silence falls between them as Anthony considers the implications of her last statement. Then he sighs heavily, the sound crystal clear through state of the art communicative technology. “It’s a bad day, huh?”</i></p><p>  <i>“I’m afraid so.”</i></p><p>  <i>"I'll be there in four hours."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful [Kataly_Malfoy](http://archiveofourown.com/users/kataly_malfoy) has translated this fic into Vietnamese! You can read that [here!](https://meomeoluoi0911.wordpress.com/2016/08/12/ironpanther-a-bad-day)

When the ornate clock in the hallway strikes nine o’clock and there’s still been no sign of movement from within the king’s chambers, Okoye knows it’s going to be one of those days. She knocks at the door to the bedroom and pushes it open, long years of familiarity easing the formality. The room is lit only by the light slipping in through partially-cracked blinds, creeping across thick fur carpeting and an ornately carved bed stand to settle in thin lines on a lump under the covers. **  
**

“Your majesty,” she calls out, quiet. “The Chinese delegation has arrived.”

For a moment the announcement hangs in the air between them, drifting along with dust mites in the beams of light. Then there’s a rustle of cloth as the king rolls over in bed, a sigh muffled by the pillow he’s shoved his face into. “Yes, of course. I will be out to see them within the hour. Thank you, Okoye.” The tone is dull, lifeless, but the words are unmistakably a dismissal. Okoye bows her head in a gesture of respect her king cannot see and quietly steps out of the room.

She pulls out her phone before she’s more than halfway down the hallway. The contact she’s seeking is third in her favorites, under Nareema and the king himself. Okoye checks the time before placing the call and hesitates for a moment. It’s two AM in New York, and although she knows the Royal Consort keeps infamously odd hours, she would hate to disturb what little sleep he does get. Eventually her loyalty to her king overrules her hesitation. T’Challa needs his husband right now, and she knows it.

Anthony answers on the third ring, so at least he wasn’t asleep. There’s exhaustion evident even with just an audio connection, though, in the rasp of his voice, in his simple, “hello?”

Perhaps both of them need each other, Okoye thinks.

 

* * *

  

“ _Komani_ ,” she begins, but Anthony cuts her off, his voice tight with panic.

“Okoye? What is it? Is he hurt?” Okoye realizes that she needs to talk to the Royal Consort more frequently, if Anthony immediately assumes a phone call from her could only mean harm for her husband. Someday, she quietly promises herself, she will call him with good news. It is unfortunate that today is not that day.

“He is unharmed,” she soothes, careful to speak in English. Anthony, despite his genius, finds it more difficult to understand isiXhosa when he is tired or stressed. Now, it seems, he is both. “No one has hurt him, nor has he brought harm unto himself.”

Silence falls between them as Anthony considers the implications of her last statement. Then he sighs heavily, the sound crystal clear through state of the art communicative technology. “It’s a bad day, huh?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Okoye hears hum mutter a string of curses before he moves closer to the microphone. “Alright, I’ll be there in four hours. Just- watch him until then, please.” Okoye resists the urge to remind the consort that what he’s asking her to do is literally her job description, but only barely.

“Of course, _komani.”_

 

* * *

 

The Iron Man armor sets down on the palace’s helipad three and a half hours later. Okoye’s there to greet it, and she catches Tony when he stumbles as the suit unfolds from around him. “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, pushing himself away. “I, uh, haven’t gotten much sleep lately.”

“You should not have flown in such a state,” Okoye says, gently rebuking.

Tony shrugs. “He needs me.”

Okoye nods and leads him silently to the royal chambers.

She stops in the doorway, watching silently as Tony slips off his shoes and pads on bare feet to the bed. She doesn’t really intend to eavesdrop on their murmured conversation, but she’s always had excellent hearing and the clicking language of Xhosa carries through the room easily.

“ _What are you doing here, love?”_

_“Okoye called me. She said you were… that it was a bad day.”  
_

_“She shouldn’t have. I’m fine, Anthony.”  
_

There’s a brief pause. Then, quieter: “ _You don’t have to suffer this alone, babe. I know what this is like, remember? You don’t have to be okay.”  
_

The covers rustle as T’Challa turns away from Tony. “ _I am king now. I have a duty to my people.”_

 _“Shuri can handle it for a little while.”_ Okoye sees Tony stroke a hand down T’Challa’s spine. “ _Let me take care of you, babe. I can’t- I can’t make it all better, but let me help.”_

Silence.

 _“Okay.”_ T’Challa rolls over and lets Tony climb into bed next to him.

“ _I love you,”_ Tony says quietly and wraps his arms around T’Challa.

T’Challa nods against Tony’s chest. “ _I know.”_

Okoye slips out of the room, confident that the kings of Wakanda will be all right in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Komani_ technically means "Queen" in Xhosa (the language of Wakanda according to MCU), not "Royal Consort," but I'm too reliant on dubiously accurate dictionaries to get worked up over semantics.
> 
> You can find more IronPanther at [ImagineIronPanther](http://imagineironpanther.tumblr.com) or me at [anthonyfuckingstark! ](http://anthonyfuckingstark.tumblr.com)
> 
> And remember, kudos and **comments** encourage and inspire authors (aka me)!


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